My creed means to me,
Kind smiles for all I see,
Alms for donations,
Lord my liberation,
Serving the community,
Praying for you and me,
Believers are human too,
In our mortal zoo,
Creed means I can say,
Be you beautifully today!
Whilst singing praises to the Lord
Collection plate passed and he scored
Enough for a brew
With a coin or two
Whatever the Lord could afford
In wild vanity your curiosity hunts
What no greedy archer ever shot;
And pining under unrequited labor,
You’ll condemn your inclement lot.
In ceaseless tilling your brow
Shall toil endlessly under sun,
Till no sweat sits on your skin;
And return with no medal won.
For your parsimonious hand
Withholds the destitute's alms;
Making poor riffraff folks curse
The sting of your stingy palms.
Kindest Heaven's warning counsel
Patient gracious amnesty supplies;
Now open those hoarding stores,
And heed the unfortunate's cries.
Oh, divine Muse,
Here before you, I kneel,
Begging for alms again:
Some verses of yours to let me use,
For my status as a poet, to be able
To retain!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
03 June 2021
On daily basis producing their hyperactive arms
For their better-offs’ less automatic alms:
On lucky charity, therefore, badly dependent,
With things not looking quite resplendent.
The word ‘Pauper’ fitting their circumstance,
Year after year, not exceeding a certain distance.
In their quest for help, increasingly instinctive
And like lawyers, by dress distinctive:
Theirs an unplanned celebration of shabbiness
With a sickening inclination to hairs of shagginess.
Beggars, though there are, who gorgeous clothes put on,
On purpose trying to win onlookers’ good opinion:
The pass-mark of character who channel their pity
To only The Sophisticated in their society.
Still beggars there are by laziness manufactured
On their physique no injuries nor the restructured
Nor, for that matter, the obvious blindness
Nor observable lameness;
Able-bodied men we shouldn’t have assisted,
Until they have persisted
With aspiring tuneful voices aiming to mesmerize us
Or comic displays such as one loves.
Beggars might remain people of lowly station
Further pitted against reduced expectation.
Welfare's up to politicians.
Poverty to judges.
Sickness comes from being neglected-
Lawlessness for grudges.
From many houses, pots, tubs
I'm begging my words
the alms of poems
I'm begging from-
the stars
sun to moon
star-spangled ship to the space, cosmos
the drop of the snow
the morn breeze of the autumn
smiling spring rose
the flying chirping birds
swimming pond fish
the shyness of new married woman
cats and dogs raining
matting snake or the quarrelsome butterfly and bee
a falling leaf on the calm water of pool and its ripple,
a puddle, urban smog
known-unknown inspiration or meditation
I'm begging my words
the alms of poems
silently, lovingly, timely
-Wednesday, July 31, 2019 Chattogram
Pray alms from God's hand to receive than treasures from the hand of Man!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
15 July 2018
I gave alms to a needy person
Her
voice cracked,
thank you, sir.
She hid the alms
like it's a fine dream.
She wore the filthy streets,
her face, baring the burdens
of her flight in life. I could see.
But what can I do? I can smell death.
But what can I do? I let her voice speak.
connie pachecho
2/2/17
The vigil of mirth and praise
Hopeful and prayerful arms raise
Alms to the creator of our days
New gratitude for his generous outlays
Kindness and mercy he endlessly displays
Scepter with which he guards our pathways
Goodness and grace to usward relays
Inspiration and devotion that our soul sways
Votive offerings heavanward sashays
In humble adoration our heart assays
Never-ending virtue our benefactor portrays
Guiding beacon that each aspiration doth appraise
Deciphering then correcting our misguided forays
And every weakness and frailty butresses with underlays
Year's sins, he pardons and the immediate penalty waylays